


bring the cowgirl out and cock them guns

by olive2read



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/F, Family are the WORST, Podfic Available, Rare Pairings, Season 5 Spoilers, Wine, hopefully not tender not soft not angsty banging, meant to be PWP but some plot snuck in while I wasn’t looking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 07:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2read
Summary: Twyla’s family wreaks havoc on the town, and the café, during their annual reunion. Stevie just wants some coffee and gets ... well, a lot more than that.





	bring the cowgirl out and cock them guns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olivebranchesandredwine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivebranchesandredwine/gifts).

> This came from a prompt of “Stevie & or \ Twyla” using the words “genuine evidence disaster” ... I don’t know if this actually fits the bill, Dr Olive, so apologies if I missed the mark. It was super fun to write tho so thanks for the prompt 😉
> 
> Title from Ke$ha’s “Boots”
> 
> **Scroll to the end for CW**

Stevie walked into the café, eyes locked on her phone, and slid into her normal booth. David was ranting about some guy that had had the _AUDACITY_ to try and pick up Patrick during their weekend getaway to celebrate their engagement. They’d gone in search of the cherry blossoms that he’d missed when Stevie had dragged him off to the Elm Valley hotel for her hook up with Emir.

**David: srsly, u have NO idea 😡 i mean did he not SEE the 4 rings??? i can see missing 1 but 4???**

** _ur just mad he was after Patrick not u 😏_ **

Stevie smiled to herself when there was no immediate response, imagining David sputtering “that’s NOT a thing!” on the other end and feeling very content with life, at least until she realised that she’d been sitting in her booth for awhile with no interruptions from Twyla. She frowned and turned to look around the café. There didn’t seem to be anyone there, nor could she hear anything from the kitchen. 

Sighing, she called out, “Twyla?” No answer. “George?” Nothing.

Well, screw this. She got up and went behind the counter. Pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot, she pulled out her phone to see if David had composed himself enough for a scathing response yet and then spewed stale coffee over everything. Wow. That was bad. Twyla’s coffee was never what anyone could call _good_ but it was usually better than this. She debated making another pot. Was it worth the effort she’d have to expend? With her luck, Twyla would breeze in as soon as it was finished and not even notice. She’d really been looking forward to coffee made by someone else this morning. Letting out a world-weary sigh, she started digging around under the counter for what she needed. 

Ten minutes later, the coffee was brewing and she understood, at least on some level, why the café’s coffee was so terrible. She could now see David’s addition of chocolate, sugar, and cream for the defence mechanism it was. She probably shouldn’t tell him what she’d found in the sugar. David would have the vapors. She _definitely_ shouldn’t tell him about the state of the chocolate syrup. David was her friend. She smirked and pulled out her phone to take a quick snap, just in case, gleefully anticipating his full-body shudder when she presented him with the evidence.

At the sound of the door, she paused in contemplating the next move for her stint of investigative photojournalism, or rather her photo spree documenting all the horrid things she’d found in the fridge cases and, strangely, the plants along the back wall – she was seriously considering heading in to the kitchen to discover what disasters lurked there – and looked up to find a very furtive Twyla slipping in and locking the door behind her. Stevie raised an eyebrow. She’d seen Twyla do a lot of truly odd things but locking the café and sneaking glances up and down the street was certainly one of the more worrisome.

“Twy?”

Twyla whirled around, eyes enormous, mouth agape. Stevie watched as she tried to pull herself together, Twyla was a master at swallowing everything down and putting on a brave face, but she didn’t quite manage it this time. “Stevie!” she said with forced brightness. “What are you doing behind the counter?” Stevie held up her mug of fresh, well, freshly-_made_ coffee in reply and Twyla put on a wobbly smile. “Oh, sure, great.” There was a crash from outside and Twyla jumped, emitting a squeak, and moved rapidly away from the front door. “Well,” she said shakily, rummaging around in her pockets and pulling out her order pad, “can I get you anything else?”

Stevie had never really considered how it was that David’s eyebrows managed to convey so much until this moment, when she could feel hers trying desperately to emulate them. There were too many things for her typical deadpan expression to handle. “No, thanks,” she said. She debated on saying more, not having any desire to get involved in whatever this was. “Twy, are you–”

“Great, well, have a nice day, Stevie!” Twyla cut her off and waved. Stevie just stared at her. Twyla walked briskly around to where Stevie was and opened one of the cabinets Stevie hadn’t yet explored. She slid out a box that looked very familiar, even more so when she grabbed an open bottle of Stevie’s favourite Rose Apothecary red that had had the cork shoved back in haphazardly, snatched out the cork and took a swig. Stevie blinked at her.

There was another crash from outside and this time a huge splat of green paint hit one of the windows, followed in quick succession by more crashes as exploding bursts of green and pink covered the exterior of the café. Twyla took another swig and crouched behind the counter, pulling Stevie down with her and handing her the bottle. Stevie took a long swig, finishing what was in there and saw that Twyla was already digging the next bottle out of the case. Stevie wasn’t sure what was going on but she was definitely on board with Twyla’s coping strategy.

The café door rattled and Stevie turned to Twyla with a questioning look. Twyla sighed and dug around in her bag, pulling out a large, bright orange toy gun. “Family reunion,” she muttered, taking a long drink from the new bottle. 

Stevie looked from the paint on the windows to the toy gun to the wine and shrugged. “Those are the _worst_.”

Twyla shook her head and nodded. Suddenly the café door burst open. Stevie moved to look over the counter but Twyla’s hand locked around her arm and yanked her back down. Getting into a crouch and picking up the toy gun, she slowly raised it over the counter. A burst of pink spattered across the chalkboard. Twyla jumped up and fired three shots in quick succession, then crouched down again. “Ha!” she exclaimed. “Got him!” She had another drink.

Stevie took a long look at Twyla, at the paint, and then focused her attention on the bottle in Twyla’s grip. Slowly, so as not to startle Twy, she took another bottle of wine out of the case. There was no way she’d get through this sharing.

Two hours later, the café was a shambles covered in puddles of green and pink. They’d hunkered down behind the counter, the wine was gone, and Stevie had stopped trying to watch the proceedings about fifteen minutes in. She simply didn’t have the wherewithal to keep looking and ducking. She’d been genuinely impressed with Twyla’s competence though. Watching her in action was like watching action movies on acid. Surreal, colourful, impressive, and something Stevie knew she’d probably regret having been a part of the next day. She was stupefied and more than a little proud that Twyla had emerged victorious in the epic paintball battle.

She met Twyla’s eyes as one of Twy’s uncles grudgingly placed a crown, made of things that didn’t bear close inspection, on her head and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles. One of the uncles said something about the pig roasting in a pit just outside of town and everyone cheered and caroused their way out of the café in drunken revelry, presumably to go eat. Stevie got shakily to her feet and stumbled over to where Twyla stood. She surprised herself by holding up her hand and giving Twyla a hearty high-five. They both cracked up again.

Stevie wasn’t sure if it was the wine, the euphoria of having come through this strange experience, or something else that she didn’t want to think about but suddenly Twyla’s lips were on hers and her hands were sliding over Stevie’s hips. Stevie’s hands were twining in Twyla’s incredibly soft, thick hair as their tongues wrapped around each other. They tore at each other’s clothes, kissing hungrily, and sunk down to the floor of the café. A distant part of Stevie registered that she wouldn’t want to know what, exactly, that was under her calf as she and Twyla lay across their discarded clothing, hands and mouths roaming wildly. 

Twyla pinched one of Stevie’s nipples and she gasped and bit her collarbone in retaliation. Twyla’s fingers were replaced by her hot, eager mouth and Stevie moaned, arching her back and thrusting her breast more deeply into Twyla’s mouth. She dug her fingers into Twyla’s hips and pulled their bodies closer, loving the feel of Twyla’s leg as it slid between hers and pressing her own thigh up against Twyla’s soft, damp curls.

Their hands slid down simultaneously, as though their minds were as connected as their bodies in this moment, and Twyla’s mouth sought hers. They moaned into each other, fingers spreading folds and seeking. Stevie’s teeth dug into Twyla’s lower lip as Twyla circled her clit. She had a moment’s panic that she wouldn’t know what to do, before realising that she knew what she liked and so she at least had somewhere to start. Twyla proved to have widely different preferences but it didn’t take long for the high of discovery to overcome Stevie’s anxiety. Twyla was just so delightfully responsive and Stevie watched avidly as Twyla melted under her touch, at least when she wasn’t closing her eyes and screaming from what Twyla was doing.

It was fast and frantic, and yet seemed to last for hours as the sensations caused by one were constantly distracting the other. Stevie lost track of how many times she came, writhing under Twyla’s fabulously flexible fingers, but she was pretty sure she gave as good as she got and revelled in the noises she wrung from Twyla.

Afterward they lay back, panting. Stevie’s hand was cramping a little bit and she was starting to sober up. Twyla rolled to her side and leaned up on an elbow, then reached out a hand and tucked a strand of Stevie’s hair behind her ear. Stevie looked down and away, suddenly awkward. Twyla kissed her and Stevie once more lost herself a little in the glide of lips and tongues. When Twyla pulled back, she smiled. “I don’t know about you, Stevie, but I sure need a shower.” She stood and held out a hand to Stevie, who let her pull her to her feet. They looked around at the mess and then Twyla shrugged. “I suppose I should call George. See you tomorrow for yoga?”

Stevie blinked at her. “Yoga?” she asked in confusion.

Twyla’s smile didn’t falter as she nodded conspiratorially. “Yeah, you really need to open your hip flexors. Did you want some more coffee?”

Stevie felt her jaw drop. “Twyla, what about – we just – we’re still _naked_!”

Twyla reached out and pinched one of Stevie’s nipples. “Oh I know, Stevie. Believe me, I’m enjoying the view. Did you want that coffee?”

Stevie just stared at her as Twyla bustled merrily toward the counter, stepping gingerly to avoid broken glass and paint puddles and who knew what else. Stevie shook herself and bent down to gather her clothes. She pulled on her flannel and her underwear, which seemed to have suffered the least amount of damage, and shoved everything else into her bag. She shook her head a few times, trying to wrap her brain around everything. Well. That had been. Well. And Twyla was. Damn. She slipped out of the café, leaving Twyla humming to herself and wincing at the tightness she now noticed in her hip flexors as she snuck home, thankful that the streets were deserted. Remembering that phenomenal twisty thing that had elicited her third (maybe fourth?) orgasm, Stevie marked Twyla down on her running list of friends to save during the apocalypse.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: shooting & guns (paintball)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] bring the cowgirl out and cock them guns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959176) by [sophinisba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba)


End file.
